


so baby, pull me closer

by owenwilsonvevo



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking, Reunion Sex, Rimming, brian has a beard, thats it thats the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owenwilsonvevo/pseuds/owenwilsonvevo
Summary: Roger will be the first to admit that he’s not always the most attentive, but he also spends a lot of time admiring Brian’s face and he’s pretty sure he would’ve noticed if he'd had a beard when he’d left. He still rushes straight into his arms, launching himself at him, legs around his waist and arms around his neck, but he can’t help the incredulous laugh that bubbles out of him.“What thehell?” He asks.





	so baby, pull me closer

**Author's Note:**

> so I actually had pretty solid plans to post an entirely different fic today but I got this hot take from an anon on tumblr and I could not!!!! get it out of my head until it was a fic of its own
> 
> I’ll try to get the other one finished & posted in the next couple days but in the meantime!!! enjoy some more filth

The rain is a steady beat against the window as Roger settles into the corner of the couch, nestled between his pillows and all of the blankets he could find in the flat. He’s bundled up in fuzzy socks and thick joggers and one of Brian’s college sweatshirts, trying to busy himself with an impossible level of Candy Crush as time drags along around him in slow motion. 

Brian had been gone for exactly two weeks. He’d been staying at his parents place, visiting with some distant relatives from a couple of towns over. It‘s all well and good, but Roger hadn’t realized before he left exactly how codependent he’d become. Brian apparently brought out the worst, most clingy version of him. He’d been gone for exactly two weeks and Roger had spent every one of the nights he’d been gone on the couch because their bed is too big without Brian next to him. He’d only been gone two nights before he’d taken to wearing Brian’s clothes because they still smelled like him and that’s the kind of person that Roger’s become. 

They’d only moved in together a few months ago — four months at the very most — but long before that Brian had kind of lived in the flat that Roger had been sharing with Tanner. He had a flat of his own, one that he paid the rent on and shared with a roommate he rarely saw, but he still spent most of his waking moments at Roger’s, most of his nights in Roger’s bed. Roger’s pretty certain that two weeks is the longest amount of time they’ve spent apart since they’d started dating a year and some odd months ago, and even before that, they were friends, and they spent a lot of time with and around each other. It isn’t Roger’s fault that he’d become reliant on Brian’s company, and he can’t help that he misses him so completely. 

He’s a proper sap, is what he is, but it’s true. He misses Brian’s smile, his laugh, the low, velvet sound of his voice. He even misses the things he knows will annoy him again when Brian gets home, like how ridiculously early he always wakes in the morning and the awful kale smoothies he’s always trying to feed Roger for breakfast. He’d rather die than ever choke one of them down, but he misses Brian trying to get him to drink them. 

He doesn’t have to miss him for much longer, at least. Brian had left his parents a few hours ago, started the drive back home to him, and Roger’s starting to get antsy. He closes the app just to watch a single minute crawl by so slowly it feels to him like an entire lifetime. He hadn’t texted Roger since he’d gotten on the road, but his parents only live a few hours away so in theory, he could be back at any time. Roger’s spent the last hour alternating between smoking out the living room window and trying to defeat the same Candy Crush level that he hasn’t been able to get past in a day and a half. Normally, he’d just get Brian to do it for him, and that‘s an entire other reason he needs to drive a little faster and hurry home to him. 

He settles back against his pillows, opening and closing apps at random in half an attempt at making time pass a little quicker. The minutes tick by at the top of the screen, but it’s happening so slowly that Roger’s sure it must be a joke. Somebody must have taken his phone and done something to it so for every ten minutes that pass only a minute ticks by. He watches the time anyway, feeling something almost giddy twist in his gut each time the minute changes. He’s impatient, but every agonizing minute he survives is a minute closer to Brian finally coming back to him. 

When he finally hears the telltale sound of the lock turning in the front door he moves quicker than he’s sure he’s ever moved in his life. He vaults himself over the back of the couch just as Brian pushes the door open, sprints across the room towards him as Brian lowers his duffle bag onto the hardwood at his feet. 

He’s grinning, and he’s got a fucking beard. Roger will be the first to admit that he’s not always the most attentive, but he also spends a lot of time admiring Brian’s face and he’s pretty sure he would’ve noticed if he'd had a beard when he’d left. He still rushes straight into his arms, launching himself at him, legs around his waist and arms around his neck, but he can’t help the incredulous laugh that bubbles out of him. 

“What the _hell_?” He asks. 

“Yeah, hey baby,” Brian greets, but his arms are tight around Roger’s waist and Roger’s missed him so, so much. “I’m happy to see you too.” 

“What the hell?” Roger asks again. He forces himself to lean back, keeping himself pressed against Brian as much as he can as he lifts a hand to tug gently as the coarse line of hair that covers his cheek. “What’s this?” 

Brian laughs, leaning up to kiss Roger’s lips again, then again, then again. Roger’s missed him madly, completely, and more than anything he’s missed the feeling of Brian’s lips against his own. The beard is entirely new, and it’s rough against Roger’s skin each time he kisses him, until Roger brings his other hand up to properly cradle Brian’s face and pull him in for another kiss, something slower, deeper, more forceful. It’s coarse under his hands, the beard, and Roger can feel it against the sensitive skin of his throat when Brian breaks away to press messy, open mouthed kisses down the side of his throat. 

“It’s kind of weird,” he tells him. 

Brian hums, biting down on the skin just beneath Roger’s ear and Roger can feel his smirk when he gasps. “I can shave,” he murmurs, “or I can show you how much I’ve missed you.” 

Roger hums and thumbs slowly across Brian’s cheek. It’s really not a difficult decision. “That depends,” he says. 

“Yeah?” Brian asks. His voice is low, syrupy, and now that he’s back Roger honestly can’t remember how he’d managed to survive without the sound of him. The phone really didn’t do him justice. “On what?” 

“On how much you missed me,” Roger says, and he can feel Brian’s laugh before he can hear it, rumbling low in his chest as he leans up to seal their lips together again. He hooks an arm beneath Roger, barely stopping to shut the front door before he’s walking him backwards, laying him out on the couch beneath him. 

Roger keeps his legs tight around Brian’s waist, keeps him close as Brian breaks away again to lift an eyebrow at the massive pile of blankets. “Have you been sleeping here?” 

Roger reaches up again, brushing his fingertips against the thick hair along his jaw. He’s known Brian since pretty early on in his teen years, and he’s never once seen him with a beard. He had never even considered that Brian was capable of growing a beard. It’s really weird. “Yeah,” he admits, and it scratches against his skin when Brian turns his head to kiss Roger’s palm. “The bed’s too big without you.” 

The way Brian’s eyes darken is immediate and feral. “Fuck,” he says. He closes the distance between them again, kissing him so quick and so messy that Roger’s head spins with it. He slides a hand into Brian’s hair, digging his nails into his scalp as Brian pushes both hands beneath the fabric of Roger’s jumper to scratch gently at his skin. He pushes the fabric up slowly, ignoring the soft, unintentional sound of protest that leaves Roger when he breaks away to push it up and over his head. His eyes flick down Roger’s chest, and the feeling of his eyes on him, the dark, predatory look on his face as he looks at him, it’s something else Roger isn’t sure how he’s managed to survive without. Brian’s looking at him now like he wants to eat him alive, and it feels like coming home. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Brian murmurs. His eyes flick back up to Roger’s face, and Roger can feel something hot start to burn in the pit of his stomach as Brian closes the distance between them to mouth at the line of his jaw. His beard his rough against his skin. “I missed you so much,” he murmurs, and his voice has become the slow, gravelly thing it always is when he’s turned on. 

Roger tilts his head back, exhaling softly as Brian closes his lips around his Adam’s apple. “You're not allowed to leave me again.” 

Brian hums again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Roger exhales sharply as he bites down on the bruise blooming across the front of his throat. He coaxes his hands back into Brian’s hair, scratching at his scalp as Brian works another bruise onto the sensitive skin. His voice is even rougher as he kisses down his collarbones, the scruff of his beard scratching at the sensitive skin of his chest. “I missed you,” he murmurs again. He’s still completely dressed, which is unacceptable, and Roger pushes at the fabric of his jacket until Brian leans away just enough to shrug out of it. He licks a stripe down his palm before he leans down to kiss Roger again, licking into his mouth as he pushes a hand down the front of his joggers, as he curls his fingers around his cock. Roger makes a breathless moan of a sound, tilting his head back against the arm of the couch as Brian strokes him, agonizingly slow. “My pretty baby,” he says lowly, and Roger missed him a ridiculous, impossible amount. 

His eyes flutter shut as Brian kisses slowly down his throat again, scratching Roger’s skin raw as he goes. He kisses down the front of his chest, the sensitive skin of his stomach, stopping to suck a bruise just under his navel, right above the waistband of his joggers. His hand never stills on his cock, a slow, lazy stroke that makes Roger squirm, that makes him so, unbearably hard. “Missed this,” Brian rasps into his skin, thumbing over the head of Roger’s cock, and Roger shudders with it. “Missed how pretty you sound for me, baby.” 

He sits up slowly, pulling his hand from Roger’s joggers, dislodging Roger’s legs from around his waist. He doesn’t give Roger time to protest before he’s pulling off his joggers, his fuzzy socks, and leaving them in a pile on the hardwood floor. He looks him over slowly, and Roger‘s heart beats quicker at his attention, spreading his legs slowly, lifting a thigh to prop his foot up on the back of the couch. Brian’s eyes settle somewhere between his spread thighs, lips swollen and parted just slightly. “Gonna fuck me?” He chides, and Brian’s pupils are blown when his eyes flicker back up to meet Roger’s. “Gonna show me how much you missed me?” 

Brian wets his lips, long fingers curling around Roger’s thigh. “Wanna taste you,” he says. Roger’s breath hitches. “Gonna let me eat you out, baby?” 

“Yeah,” he says, and his eyelashes flutter. “Please.” 

Something feral flickers across Brian’s face as he lifts Roger’s leg over his shoulder, settling between his thighs. His jacket’s a pile of fabric on the floor next to the couch but he’s otherwise completely dressed, and something about it makes Roger flush all the way down his chest, something about having Brian fully clothed between his bare thighs. His hands find Brian’s hair again as Brian curls his fingers around Roger’s thighs, keeping him bent nearly in half to mouth at the inside of his leg. His breath is hot against his skin, and Roger shivers, digging his nails into the back of Brian’s head as he kisses up the inside of his thigh, so slowly that he quivers with it. He arches, and he can feel the heat of Brian’s breath as he murmurs, “so pretty for me, baby,” before licking a slow stripe over his hole. The coarse hair of his beard is scratching at the insides of his thighs, at the sensitive skin around his hole, and the world around Roger lights up in technicolor. He arches again, heat spreading through him like he’d been set on fire. He cries out. 

Their apartment isn’t the most high end, and with the low rent comes thin walls and even thinner ceilings. The people that live above them have come around more than once in the time they’ve lived there to tell them to quiet the fuck down during sex. Every time they come around Roger makes an effort to be even louder the next time, to make as much sound as he possibly can just to spite them. Now, he’s loud, crying out with every flick of Brian’s tongue, and he isn’t even doing it on purpose. 

He feels like they’re being punched out of him, the high, gasping noises that leave him as Brian licks into him slowly. He opens him up with his tongue, gentle and wet and messy and Roger’s gasping with it, hands tight in Brian’s hair. His beard is rough against his skin, rubbing him raw each time he moves his jaw and it makes Roger shake, makes him lift his other leg over Brian’s shoulder and rock into it as Brian licks inside him. It burns, the thick hair as it scratches at his soft skin, dry and raw around the unbearably wet heat of Brian’s tongue. He gasps again, head back, whole body arching with it, and Brian digs his fingertips into Roger’s hips so tightly Roger’s sure he’s leaving bruises. 

He tightens his thighs around him, feels the scuff of hair again as Brian moves his tongue inside him. “ _Fuck_ ,” Roger says loudly, and his voice cracks, thighs quivering on either side of Brian’s head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He’s chanting, but his blood is rushing so loudly in his ears he can barely hear himself. It’s almost painful, Brian’s scruff against his skin, and it’s so, _so_ good. 

He reaches down, curls his fingers around his cock, strokes himself in time with the with messy, broad strokes of Brian’s tongue. “Fuck,” he says again, and he can feel the heat building in the pit of his stomach, he can feel the flame licking up his spine. “Wanna come,” he gasps. “Fuck, wanna come. Make me come.” 

Brian makes a sound against him, a low, grumble of a thing, and Roger tightens a hand around his cock. “Fuck,” he repeats, a mantra, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” and then he’s tugging at Brian’s hair, pushing down against him, coming with another cry all over his stomach. He comes so hard he shakes with it, his chest heaving as he slumps down against his layers of blankets and Brian turns his head to press a rough, scuff of a kiss to the inside of Roger’s thigh. He has a hand shoved down the front of his jeans, and Roger watches him from behind hooded eyes before he slowly lifts one of his legs to the back of the couch again. 

“Come on me,” he pants softly. “Want you to come on me. Make me yours.” 

He can feel it as Brian groans again, pressing another kiss to Roger’s skin before he sits up on his knees between his thighs. His lips are even more swollen, eyes dark, the hair around his mouth darkened and slick with spit. He looks like a wet dream Roger didn’t even he had. He beckons Brian closer, pulls him down to kiss him properly. Brian groans into his mouth again, keeping himself propped up with a hand on the arm of the couch next to Roger’s head, and Roger helpfully reaches between them to push Brian’s jeans down his hips, to free his cock. He replaces Brian’s hand with his own, and he only has to stroke him once, twice, before, with a flick of his wrist, he’s groaning into Roger’s mouth and coming over his stomach, up his chest. 

The kiss grows lazier, sloppier, but neither of them part until Roger’s heartbeat has finally returned to normal and the come is mostly starting to dry on his chest. 

“Missed you,” Brian murmurs, and Roger can’t help that he grins. 

“Missed you,” he echoes. “Not the same getting off by myself.” 

Brian rolls his eyes, but his grin is enough to rival Roger’s as he pecks his lips again, sits up slowly. “C’mon,” he says. “We should shower. I can shave and then fuck you properly.” 

Roger sits up so quickly he nearly hits Brian’s head with his own. “No!” 

“Woah,” he says, pushing Roger’s fringe back from his face, tacky with sweat. “Okay. We don’t have to —“ 

“The beard,” Roger says, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to say no to having Brian fuck him in the shower, especially after two weeks apart. “Don’t shave.” 

He lifts an eyebrow, but there’s something of a smirk spreading across his face and it’s crooked. “I thought it was weird?” 

“It’s growing me,” he admits, bringing his hands up again to brush over Brian’s cheeks, the scruff of his hair. 

Brian hums again. “Funny that,” he says. He presses another kiss to Roger’s lips as Roger traces the line of hair under his cheekbone with his thumb. “How about we shower anyway,” he suggests, “we can get you cleaned up, and then I can fuck you properly?” 

“Will you carry me?” Roger asks, smoothing his hands down Brian’s jaw. 

Brian grins. “Of course,” he says. He sheds his jumper, then his jeans before he stands, lifting Roger into his arms with ease. “I love you,” he says, and it feels like finally coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> don’t forget I’m always taking prompts/requests/hot takes & headcannons on my [tumblr](http://sweetheaert.tumblr.com) so don’t be afraid to hmu :^)


End file.
